Dead Zeppelin (SYOC)
by Orlando Butler
Summary: "You're an Ultimate, Young Rumiko. Why shouldn't you enjoy the finer things in life? Regular people would crawl over each other like rats in a sewer to get the chance to see inside the airship you're currently standing in. Lavish in it, my dear. An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime."
1. Prologue Part 1

What causes entitlement?

What can cause a person to feel like they've earned something when in reality they've earned nothing of the sort? How can they hover above everyone as if they aren't annoying? I'd say a lot of it is privilege. People are born without the need to work for anything, thus they walk around and expect the world to treat them like the royalty their parents do.

I'm not sure. What do I know, anyway?

My alarm clock woke me up at 10:35. That gave me a lot of free time considering I didn't have anything going on until 7 that night, but I figured I'd give myself time to prepare. I spent a lot of the day shopping for groceries. Mom and dad hadn't been to the store in a month and didn't have any plans to go in the future. That left me to pick up the slack. I'm sort of used to being the "adult" of the house. After that, I helped my friend Roman rent a suit that would look good on him for tonight's event. Finally, I made myself dinner before getting dressed.

And there I stood. Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror; dressed to the nines.

My name is Rumiko Inagawa, and I'm the Ultimate Violinist.

I never liked to toot my own horn, but I cleaned up pretty well. The wine red dress I was wearing had been expensive, but good impressions are priceless. The black capelet I had draped over my shoulders made me look more regal than I usually would, and the black block heels I had on helped amplify my unimpressive height.

I readjusted my glasses, making sure they weren't crooked. I brushed my hair for the third time in the last hour. No hair could be out of place. Nothing was going to ruin tonight.

I looked at the note that'd I'd taped to my mirror two months back.

["Dear Rumiko Inagawa, the Ultimate Violinist,

You are cordially invited to take place in a most extravagant event. As you most likely know, the 300th anniversary of Hope's Peak Academy will come to pass in the coming months. In celebration of this historic day, I and Kazimir Volkov: the Ultimate Oil Baron, have planned a party to help commemorate the history of our tremendous academy.

You haven't started classes yet, however, you'll be starting next semester. We've invited ALL Ultimate students, new and old, alumni and new bloods. This party is for all of those that Hope's Peak has guided and will guide to glory. That includes you, Ms. Inagawa.

The party will take place in a state of the art commercial airship of my design. A rigid airship; a zeppelin. This zeppelin, The Royal Wing as Mr. Volkov has dubbed it, will have a full staff to cater to your every need. You'll be able to meet and network with other Ultimates, meet those of the same status as yourself. Also, Mr. Volkov has insisted that you perform one of your original compositions at the party. You do not have to, of course, but it could help garner some attention. There'll be quite a several important people at this function.

The Royal Wing will depart from Sugiyama Memorial Airfield at 7 PM on the 13th of August. Just give your name at the gate and you'll be let in. I look forward to meeting you in person.

Yours truly,

Taijiri Akihara: the Ultimate Airship Engineer.]

With a deep sigh, I folded the note up and placed it in my purse. I intended on giving Mr. Akihara and Mr. Volkov my utmost thanks once I got to the party. It felt good to have my feelings validated. Being apart of Hope's Peak was special to me, it made me _feel _special.

I rubbed a little bit of my favorite scented lotion onto my hands before putting it in my purse. It smelled like oranges. Super citrusy. As a violinist, my hands are extremely important to me. Even something as simple as a single callus could affect my performance, so I have to take very good care of them. I slipped on my favorite pair of white gloves and left the bathroom, finally feeling ready to take on the night.

I grabbed my violin case before heading into my living room. My family and I didn't live in the greatest home on Earth. Ever since my father lost his job we've been living off the income my mother makes. We've been living paycheck to paycheck for two years now.

Our home was small. The living room and kitchen were pretty much in the same room. The only thing separating carpet from tile was a narrow kitchen island and a half door. It was this area, my room, my parent's room, and a single bathroom. That's what made up our home. It felt terrible living in such a small space, but it was livable.

My father, Taichi, was half asleep in his favorite leather recliner watching some news program on the TV. My mother, Noriko, was sitting at the kitchen table reapplying her makeup.

Now, the seven deadly sins are very...broad concepts. Hence why it's so easy to just pin them on people. With that being said, however, I'd be lying if I said that my parents were anything OTHER than comical exaggerations of two of the seven sins.

My father was sloth incarnate, and what hurts the most is that he wasn't always like that. After he lost his job at the rice factory he fell into a deep depression. He felt inadequate; like he couldn't take care of his family. Feeling bad about the loss of a position you've held for eleven years makes complete sense, but what DOESN'T make sense is sitting around feeling sorry for yourself while also not making any attempt to find a new job and help your family. I'd never seen someone so resigned to a grim fate that didn't need to be. He was okay with giving up. Okay with being a failure, and for that I couldn't respect him.

My mother was a completely different issue. While my dad didn't care about himself or his image, Noriko Inagawa was on the exact opposite end of the spectrum. If my father was sloth then my mother was pride. Her obsession with her looks bordered on insanity. Her vanity knew no bounds, even going as far as to pretend not to know her husband when out in public. I wanted to be upset with her, but I honestly couldn't blame her. My dad was an embarrassment when he was outside, I mean he seldom took off his pajamas, and that's only one offense!

My mom was the most supportive when it came to me going to Hope's Peak, but it didn't have anything to do with being proud of me. It wasn't about me, it never was. What mattered to her was having an Ultimate student for a daughter. Oh, the respect she'd get for raising a prodigy. Thinking about it made me want to barf.

"OH!" my mother shouted, finally noticing me. "There's my baby! You look wonderful!"

She rushed from the table to right in front of me. She pinched my cheeks, "You clean up so well! You'll be the belle of the ball!"

I rolled my eyes, "It isn't a ball mother, it's just a small party."

"Small?" my father spoke up from his recliner. "That Volkov guy peddled millions into that blimp you're goin' on. It's been all over the news."

That was an understatement. Kazimir Volkov had been appearing on every news station for almost all of July and August. He held press conference after press conference right alongside Taijiri Akihara about The Royal Wing, and yet despite all the hype he was building he refused to let any reporters inside the zeppelin.

"It'll be an incredible surprise," he had said, "plus it's for Ultimates eyes only."

That last comment had stirred up some controversy. Mr. Volkov had been very clear that he didn't want anybody other than people related to Hope's Peak Academy and the staff to be even anywhere near the airship. He's been making it clear that the staff has all been hired personally by him and Mr. Akihara to pick the most trustworthy people to not leak secrets.

"I'm just happy that she'll be there at all," my mother continued, leaning in close, "also, if you see any young men who may be interested in a relationship, then I'd suggest you jump on it," she whispered.

"Mother…" I muttered through gritted teeth. She patted me on the head before backing away with her arms up defensively.

"It's just an idea. There's always a chance that a dashing, affluent prince will come to sweep you off your feet and rescue us from our financial woes."

My father scoffed, "She'll never get herself a man when she still hangs out with that fucking ninny."

Now I was upset. "Two things, father. One, I don't want a "man". Two, you know I don't like it when you talk about Roman like that."

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

I was about to retaliate, but I was interrupted by phone vibrating from inside of my purse. I pulled it out and saw that I had a text.

_yo im here come outside_

It was only after reading Roman's text that I realized how much time I'd wasted. It was already 6:25. I put my phone back in my purse and headed to the front door.

"Roman's here. I'm off."

For the first time since I'd come out of the bathroom, my father turned to look at me. "You better not let that fucking bum into my house."

_He's the bum? Seriously? Zero self-awareness._

I didn't want to dignify him with a response. So, I didn't. I just opened and shut the door and let the warm August air envelope me.

At the end of our short driveway stood my one and only "friend": Roman Dolarhyde.

Roman was an...interesting guy to be around. He was as charming as a snake with a criminal record and as subtle as a baseball to the type of guy to honestly believe that his purpose on Earth was to please women. The type of guy who knew he was attractive and was much more into himself then ANYONE could be into him. The amount of vanity I had to deal with in my life was laughable.

Now, everyone has run into at least one person similar to what I just described.

However, I'd wager my life savings betting that you would never consider that person a friend. So, why did I?

Well, the answer to that question is a little sadder than you may expect. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. The one person who I could've considered a friend decided that I was no longer cool enough to hang out with at the beginning of high school and that friendship had only lasted a year or so. However, at the beginning of high school, the same year I lost my one friend, the Dolarhyde family had moved to Japan. Roman made it clear the type of person he was as soon as he showed up. He was obnoxious, sleazy, selfish, tactless, and many other negative adjectives.

Things changed on the day he approached me. I think he was surprised that I didn't immediately reject him like everyone else in the school. I made it clear to him that there'd be no chance of us getting together, but I wouldn't say no to an acquaintance.

And surprisingly enough he accepted without hesitation. I think he was pretty lonely. He claimed that he was the "cool kid" back in America, but I'm not sure how much I believe that.

As I approached him and his car I got a better look at what he was wearing, and I quickly felt my blood start to boil. He was in an orange and black plaid button-up with his favorite leather jacket over it. He was in a pair of simple black slacks and his brown work boots. His red hair was shaggy like it always was; chaotic to the point of looking like it was done on purpose. I marched up to him as he looked down at me with his trademark smirk.

"What's up?" he said casually. I felt my eye twitch.

"What's up?" I parroted back at him, "WHAT'S UP WITH YOU? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING?"

He looked down at his attire and chuckled, "Oh this? Just thought I'd toss it on. I look good?"

"Under any other circumstance? Yes, you'd look fine. Under the circumstance of you attending an important party filled with important people? You look terrible. What happened to the tuxedo we picked out?"

He nonchalantly dusted some dust off of his jacket, "Oh, that thing? Yeah, I wasn't vibing with it, you know?"

I shook my head in disbelief, "No, I don't know. That was an expensive rental, Roman. We spent YOUR money."

He just shrugged, patted me on the head (which he knows I hate), and got into his car. "Money's no object, my love, now get in. We don't wanna be late, do we?"

His fictitious question only managed to make me more upset, but I still got into the passengers' side next to him. "You're a jackass."

"I'm a badass. You misspoke." he laughed before starting to drive.

I leaned my seat back and watched as the sun started to set. I flattened out my dress and sighed. I closed my eyes, not wanting to talk for the half-hour drive.

Nobody was going to ruin this night for me. Not Roman, not my parents, nobody. I'm going to perform for possibly hundreds of Ultimates just like me.

I thought things would finally start going my way.

That's what I thought…

* * *

I couldn't tell you why I'm doing this. Just know that I am. I'm going to come to regret this decision, I just don't regret it right now. I'm not going to waste a lot of time on the rules because they're pretty much the same as any other SYOC so let's get them out of the way.

* * *

**No Gary/Mary-stu's. I can't stand perfect characters who can do nothing wrong.**

**The cast is being upped from 16 to 22, so you can send in as many characters as you'd like, but I'm not a big fan of accepting more than one character from people. So don't be surprised if only one of your characters ends up in the final roster.**

**Do not send in a character if they've already been accepted into another SYOC. It's disrespectful to the author that already took in your OC.**

**No characters through the reviews. Those characters will be ignored.**

**When submitting your character, title the submission "DZ: (Character's Name)**

**I think that covers the majority of the necessary bases. Onto the application.**

* * *

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Gender:**

**Ultimate Talent:**

**Relationship with Hope's Peak: **(Are they just entering the academy? Did they graduate years ago? Are they a teacher now? I'm cool with whatever, just so long as they have some kind of connection to Hope's Peak.)

**Sexuality:**

**Height:**

**Weight:**

**Nationality:**

**Ethnicity:**

**Physical Appearance: **(Be detailed. Hair, eyes, hairstyle, body type, anything you can think of.)

**Birthmarks/Tattoos/Scars/etc.:**

**Casual Wear:**

**Formal Wear:**

**Sleepwear:**

**Personality: **(Please be detailed. I need as much to work with as possible. I'm a sucker for a couple of paragraphs.)

**Back Story: **(Same as personality, though you don't need to be as in-depth.)

**Likes: (**At least three.**)**

**Dislikes: (**Same as likes.**)**

**People they'd get along with:**

**People they'd dislike:**

**Mannerisms/Quirks:**

**Secret(s):**

**Fear(s):**

**Free Time Event Ideas:**

**Motives for murder: (**What would cause your character to snap and seriously consider murder?)

**Justification for Victim:**

**Justification for Murderer:**

**Justification for Survivor:**

**Mastermind justification: **(Would you want them to be the mastermind?)

**Reaction to Killing Game:**

**Reaction to body discovery: (**Both innocent and guilty.)

**Role in the investigation: (B**oth innocent and guilty.)

**Role in the trial: **(Both innocent and guilty.)

**Reaction seeing an execution:**

**Possible execution ideas:**

**Quotes: **(Just a couple of lines they would say so I can get an idea of how they talk.)

* * *

So yeah, I'm done. Due date isn't until **Christmas 2020**, so this one could sit on the back burner for a little bit while I work on CAH&D and (sometimes) DoD. Though I'll drop in and give an occasional update just so nobody forgets about it. I have nothing left to offer. Until next time.

* * *

SUBMITTED GENDERS:

X13 Males

X8 Females

SUBMITTED TALENTS

X1 Detective

X1 Tailor

X1 Perfumer

X1 Counselor

X1 Horror Novelist

X1 Screenwriter

X1 Singer

X1 Luck

X1 Ethical Hacker

X1 Wagashi Artist

X1 Interrogator

X1 Butler

X1 Illustrator

X1 Street Magician

X1 Dungeon Master

X1 Gothic Lolita Designer

X1 Fisherman

X1 Stained Glass Maker

X1 Bouncer

X1 Video Platform Entertainer

X1 Tracer


	2. Prologue Part 2

"Can you PLEASE turn this garbage down?"

Roman scoffed, "You have no taste in music."

I could only roll my eyes in response. Almost as soon as we'd started moving Roman put in a CD that he'd burned himself with all his favorite rap songs. I had zero clue who any of the artists on the disc were; they all sounded so similar.

"You gotta broaden your horizons, strings," he said, tapping on the wheel to the beat of the song playing. It was obnoxious and bass boosted, and I think there was a guy saying...something over the garbled noise of the beat.

"My horizons are very broad, I'll have you know," I snapped, readjusting my gloves, "however, my extensive history with music allows me to differentiate what's garbage and what isn't."

Roman made a deep throaty noise, almost like a growl, "And who the hell are YOU to dictate what's music, strings?" his grip tightened on the wheel. Honestly, he was too easy sometimes.

I couldn't help but chuckle, "You know, Roman. You're pretty sensitive for someone with such a dangerous job."

That wasn't an exaggeration either. Roman Dolarhyde was the Ultimate Steeplejack.

* * *

**Roman Dolarhyde**

**Ultimate Steeplejack**

* * *

Being a steeplejack was a demanding job that required almost no fear. You couldn't be afraid of high places, of falling, and or of death.

And if there was one thing that I was sure of about Roman, it's that he rarely felt fear.

"Yeah, well I'm a human before I'm a steeplejack," he turned the car down a side road that was a bit off the beaten path, "and humans have feelings, Rumiko."

Uh oh, real name. That means he's actually mad at me.

"I'm joking with you, Roman," I said defensively, "What? You can dish it but can't take it?" I'll admit, I was trying to poke the bear a little. It wasn't often that I had Roman on the ropes, and I'd be a fool to not take advantage of it.

Roman didn't say anything, however. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, but he swallowed whatever he wanted to say and kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of us. I studied his face, trying to get an idea of what he was thinking. I took everything in. His green eyes were squinted in focus. He knew he needed to wear glasses when he drove. And when he read. And when he...did pretty much anything. I'd told him countless times to wear his prescription glasses, but he fervently refuses every time out of fear of 'looking 'stupid'. I was with him and his mom when we picked out the ones he wanted for crying out loud!

My gaze moved from his eyes to the small horizontal scar on the bridge of his nose. It happened on his second day at my high school. He'd been in Japan for only a month or so. His game plan for popularity was to pick out the biggest, toughest guy and beat him up. Unfortunately, the biggest, toughest guy at our school was Haruki Saito; a notorious biker leader in our town. Their first interaction went about as well as you'd think it would.

"_Hey! You Haruki Saito?"_

"_Yeah, that's me. And what exactly do you want?"_

This short exchange was immediately followed by Roman hitting Haruki with a hard right hook. Unbeknown to Roman, however, the boys standing around Haruki weren't just his friends, but members of his gang. It took three teachers and two security guards to pry the five boys off of Roman. The beat down left Roman with a swollen eye, a broken rib, and the scar on his nose when one of the boys attempted to stab him. All things considered it could've been a lot worse.

I looked at his jaw. It was locked tight and slowly moving back and forth. He was grinding his teeth again. He only did that when he was really upset. I guess I actually got to him. Alright, Rumiko. Change the subject.

"It'll be good to network with other Ultimates." I said as we merged onto the highway.

"Oh please," Roman rolled his eyes, "it's just gonna be a bunch of suits waxing poetic about nothing and pretending to give a shit about each other's opinions."

I sighed, "Must you be so cynical? This is a good thing."

"For you maybe. As for me, I couldn't care less about a title. And being in a room with a bunch tightasses who think their shit doesn't stink because they're good at something is gonna make me wanna hang myself."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. I hated when he got on this high horse about Ultimate students. "Okay, Roman, if that's the case then why did you accept the talent scouts offer to come to Hope's Peak if you hate Ultimates so much?"

Roman turned to me with a crooked grin, "Because I thought it would get me laid."

I tried to resist the urge to groan, but it was too powerful. I made a sound that was a healthy mix of defeat and disgust. Roman could only shrug at me, "You asked." he said.

I looked up at him, my anger was probably showing on my face. "You know what? It's MY fault for thinking better of you. How dare I have a hope that maybe you'd be able to show a little respect to fellow humans."

Roman was checking his teeth in the rear view mirror, "Empathy and respect slows me down, strings. I'm a lot more productive when I'm an asshole."

I hate him. So. MUCH. I never understood his mind set. It's almost like he prided himself on his toxic, oafish behavior. Why he'd be so content in being so horrible escaped me, but then again, I wasn't him.

I put my head in my hands, doing my best not to smudge my makeup, "Why do I hangout with you?"

"Because you're afraid of being alone," he stated matter of factly as he pulled a toothpick from his jacket pocket, "you have a shit home life and zero friends so you figure that being around someone you hate is better than being around nobody." Without much heed for the road Roman started mercilessly picking at his teeth, leaving me to stew on his words.

It was cute that he thought he knew me. Roman loved doing this. He loved thinking he was in peoples heads, when in reality the truth was actually the opposite. He wasn't a master manipulator, and he wasn't a suave conman. He was Roman Dolarhyde: Ultimate Steeplejack, and Ultimate Inferiority Complex. You know the type. A guy who claims to not care what people think and then immediately lashes out and breaks down at what he perceives as negative feedback. It was all too common. Roman's a scumbag don't get me wrong, but he's ultimately harmless.

"I see you brought your violin," he said, flicking his toothpick out his window, "you gonna play at the party?"

I nodded, "That was the plan. Mr. Akihara said that Mr. Volkov specifically asked for me to perform." I said smugly. What could I say? I was excited to have my talent acknowledged.

"AAAH." Roman whispered, as if having an epiphany. "So, that's why you're so excited, right? You're gonna go up on a stage and make all your dreams come true. Kazimir Volkov is gonna drop to his knees and give you his oil empire on the spot; saving you from that shithole you live in."

I frowned at him, "You can't just be happy for me?"

He shook his head, "No, I'm happy for you. I just think you might be putting too much stock into a performance at a party."

I folded my arms, "I haven't even told you how I feel. You're making assumptions."

He turned his head away from the road and towards me, his eyebrow arched, "Am I really that far off?"

Maybe he wasn't, but he wouldn't stop me from being excited. "You know a FRIEND would be supportive of me."

"It's just funny to me that you think you'll be the only Ultimate performing tonight." Roman chuckled. He was right. I wouldn't be the only performer to take the stage tonight. There'd been multiple Ultimates, new and old, on social media talking about their invitation onto The Royal Wing. Kuniko Fujita: the Ultimate Drummer, was one of them. Raizo Yagami: the Ultimate Tuba Player, was another. And that was only two fish plucked from a sea of talented individuals looking to impress Kazimir Volkov. Myself being one of them. Though those other performers didn't matter. Once the Ultimate Oil Baron heard one of my solos he'd never look at music the same way again.

"I wish I had a sellable talent like playing an instrument." Roman turned off of the highway onto the exit that led to the airway. We'd be there in about twenty minutes now.

"Like, what am I gonna do? Hop on top of the zeppelin to show how cool being a steeplejack is?" he sarcastically continued, "I'm good at my job but I'm not stupid."

I rolled my eyes, "You're a little stupid." I smirked.

"And you're plain looking. Looks like we both have our faults, don't we?"

This is the same guy who got defensive over his rap music…

With a "friend" like Roman, why would I need any enemies?

* * *

**Hi. I'm still alive and I'm still writing. This took me awhile (and honestly probably didn't need to be so long) but it's done now. This is just supposed to be a little update to bump DZ back up to the list so people can see it. I haven't received too many submissions yet, so I can't say what character types I need specifically. If you have a character to send in, then send them in. Just keep the rules in mind.**

**Until next time, I guess.**


	3. Late October Update

**It's been a minute since anything from this story was produced, but me finishing my first trial on my other DR story has motivated me to give a little update on this story and show off the decisions I've made. I didn't want to accept any character until the end of the year deadline, but a small number of submissions has persuaded me to fill a few slots early. Not to mention this update'll push DZ back to the top of the list for more people to see. Here's what I have.**

* * *

**CAST ROSTER:**

**Males:**

**1\. **Roman Dolarhyde - Ultimate Steeplejack

**2\. **Asahiro Ariyoshi - Ultimate Interrogator (The RoseShadow21)

**3\. **Kazuya Nichikawa - Ultimate Wagashi Artist (Glass-Lady-Of-The-Opera)

**? **

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

**FEMALES:**

**1\. **Rumiko Inagawa - Ultimate Violinist

**2\. **Chisaki Itoh - Ultimate Horror Novelist (Prince PokePersona)

**3\. **Miyabi Kaminaga - Ultimate Screenwriter (Prince PokePersona)

**4\. **Kagami Sakkaku - Ultimate Tailor (Wolffang1795)

**5\. **Raina Gold - Ultimate Street Magician (Ziggymia123)

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

**?**

* * *

**Thank you to the writers who've sent in characters so far, and congrats to the authors who officially have characters in the story. I intend on DZ being a very wild ride. There are still 8 boy slots and 6 girl slots.**

**If you want some OC recommendations, then I need a few more guys currently, but girls are still fine to send in! Personality-wise, I could use some more aggressive, confrontational characters. Maybe some possible antagonists? Also, leaders and or shy types. I've gotten a lot of friendly characters, and those a fine, but wild card characters are always what makes DR fun.**

**Until next time.**


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